


Wandering

by FleetofShippyShips



Series: Conversations [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8248982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetofShippyShips/pseuds/FleetofShippyShips
Summary: With their injured party still stranded in the woods, trying to make their way back to Camelot, Merlin struggles to be helpful in their dangerous situation, without revealing his magic. Arthur isn't helping matters as he continues to edge around something serious when he speaks to Merlin whenever they are alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Wandering漂泊](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9896633) by [Loukid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loukid/pseuds/Loukid)



Merlin paused, and looked over his shoulder. Sir Leon was keeping an annoyingly close eye on him. Arthur’s doing, no doubt. The prat just couldn’t stop telling everyone how weak and useless he was. Leon glanced away as he saw Merlin noticing his gaze, and resumed his search for water and food. Merlin narrowed his eyes, then quickly turned around and called on his magic. He wasn’t really sure what he was doing, which was a disturbingly common theme with his magic. Still, it did not fail him.

It was like a warm breeze moving through him, stirring him. He felt awake and alive, more so than he had for a while. His arm even stopped aching. He doubted that his wound was in any way better, but it wasn’t hurting for the moment, and he’d take all that he could get. As he looked around, slowly, he felt a strange yearning sensation within him when he faced East.

Trusting his magic completely, he followed it. He didn’t bother to mask his footfalls, he wanted Leon to follow him. If he managed to sneak even a short way off, Arthur would probably smack him around the head, and then berate him in front of the Knights. A scowl formed on Merlin’s face as he recalled the many times that had happened.

A muted yelp behind him informed him that Leon had noticed his movements.

“Merlin!” he hissed.

Merlin ignored him, and kept walking. There was water in that direction, his magic had never led him astray. Behind him, Leon cursed, and Merlin heard him follow.

“Not that way,” Leon said, as he came abreast him. “If you go that way we’ll stray too far. You heard what the Prince said!”

Merlin rolled his eyes. Arthur could say what he liked. They were still too far from Camelot, trudging blindly through an area neither Arthur nor any of the other knights knew well. That had been the point of the scouting party, after all. With no guarantee of coming across water on their trek, Merlin was not inclined to listen to the Royal Prat.

“I have a feeling,” he said quietly, expecting Leon to grab him at any moment to enforce Arthur’s orders.

Instead, the knight merely released a loud sigh, and said nothing. Merlin cast him a curious look. Leon had always been kinder to him than the other knights, less amused by Arthur’s relentless teasing. Still, that was easier than he’d expected.

“Just stay aware of your surroundings,” he said, craning his head around, looking in all directions in succession. “Arthur will have me banished if I let you wander off and get hurt. Or worse.”

The last part was muttered, and Merlin barely heard it at all. He scoffed. Better Leon than him. If he wandered off, he’d get his own severe punishment no doubt, as well as a lecture about wasting the knights’ time looking for him. Arthur just couldn’t grasp the concept that sometimes he might go off deliberately, and not actually be lost. The prat also seemed to think he was completely helpless in the woods. Merlin would probably fare better than the knights, in fact, even without his magic.

Well, he’d show Arthur. He was determined to bring back both food and water. He needed to show the stupid prat that he wasn’t useless, and that his wound was not slowing him down. Maybe then, if they were attacked again, the idiot would stop watching Merlin and actually watch his opponents. Merlin scowled at the memory. He still couldn’t believe Arthur had taken his eyes off his opponent to check on him. Merlin could have cast magic if it weren’t for the constant checking, and Arthur never would have been injured himself.

“Are you alright? Is your wound ailing you?”

Merlin turned his scowl on Leon. “I’m fine!” he snapped. He was sick of the way they made such a fuss over it. Certainly it had been deep, and he’d not been able to clean it properly, but it was nothing compared to the wounds the knights had.

Leon raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing further. When they stumbled across a stream, he shook his head, and didn’t even look surprised.

 

* * *

 

Even though he was walking quietly, Arthur seemed to spot him the second he was within sight. He ran his eyes over him, obviously checking for injury. For once, Merlin didn’t let that lack of faith dampen his mood. He’d found water, and even some food. Leon had caught a few rabbits, and if Merlin had helped his aim with that makeshift sling, well, it only cheered him further. Arthur couldn’t very well claim he was useless now.

“Well, look at that,” Arthur said, limping closer to him, “we found a use for you after all.”

Merlin scowled, his eyes darting down to Arthur’s bandages. They’d stained red again. The prat was making it worse by walking around unaided. Before he could even mention it, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and he nearly fell over from the force with which Arthur leaned on him.

“Now, before you cook us all dinner, wash that wound of yours,” Arthur said, giving him a stern look. “The last thing we need is it festering and making you delirious. You sound mad on a good day.”

“Oh, there are good days in my company?” Merlin asked snidely. “I was under a distinctly different impression.”

Arthur’s face took on an amused expression, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed off Merlin’s shoulder, so strongly he almost sent him tumbling to the ground, and then hobbled over to Leon. Merlin’s eyes dropped to his leg again. He’d rather see to Arthur’s wound first, not his own.

 

* * *

 

By the time Merlin had finished tending his own wound, and had helped the knights with a small fire to cook the rabbits on a spit, Arthur had treated his own wound. Merlin scowled over at him, knowing that if he tried to check, the prat would only say something loud and demeaning to make him back off. He was sitting with Caselus and Jodain, and looked to be discussing some kind of strategy. He was probably critiquing their fighting during the ambush, as they were the youngest knights in the party, and were still learning battle strategy.

Merlin continued to glare over at them. Arthur was not resting his leg at the proper angle, putting unnecessary strain on the wound. Instead of starting something in front of the knights, an action he knew from experience would not go well for him, he stomped over to the fire and started putting it out. If the bandits decided to come after them again, they would have regrouped and started tracking them by now. It was no longer safe for a fire, and Arthur had only allowed it to cook the rabbits.

They’d been tough and unappetizing, and there hadn’t been nearly enough for everyone, but it was better than nothing. Merlin knew they hadn’t covered enough ground, nowhere near as much as Arthur had hoped. He could read it in the tense line of his shoulders and jaw, and the way he was diverting himself and the younger knights by analysing the battle. They were in a much more serious situation than he wanted anyone else to know.

“We can’t risk a fire tomorrow night,” Leon said quietly, startling Merlin. The knight was watching him watch Arthur. “We’ll have to find berries or nuts, things like that.”

Merlin wasn’t surprised that Leon was well aware of their situation, he was a senior knight with a lot of experience.

“We don’t have much chance of that unless we split up to cover more ground,” he replied quietly.

Leon frowned. “You know that’s not going to happen.”

Merlin felt his face twist into a sullen expression. Once again, Arthur treating him as weak was going to slow them down and cause problems. He was more than ready to prove him wrong, if only he wouldn’t end up burned at the stake, or on the run for it. It usually didn’t bother him as much when the knights expressed such sentiment about him, it was all Arthur’s fault, and at least they were kinder about it. Stressed and tired, with his arm still aching, he was finding himself more easily irritated.

“I know why we can’t send anyone ahead to Camelot, we need everyone here in case we’re attacked again,” he said, looking over at Arthur again, “but I could go. I know he won’t let me, that he won’t trust me to make it there. But we could at least make our situation better if we split up tomorrow, cover more ground looking for food and water.”

Leon raised an eyebrow, looking uncomfortable, and Merlin was suddenly reminded that he’d heard an unknown amount of his and Arthur’s conversation.

“It’s not really my place, Merlin,” the knight started, looking away and seeming even more uncomfortable, “but I doubt that it’s a matter of trust.”

“If he trusts me not to mess up, then he wouldn’t have you wasting your time watching me, when we could cover more ground looking for food and water separately,” Merlin replied sullenly.

Leon opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked over at Arthur, then shook his head.

“Get some rest, Merlin,” he said gently. “You didn’t get enough sleep last night, and we’ll need to try and cover more ground tomorrow.”

Merlin coloured. It had been a bit hard to rest while surrounded by wounded knights, when he could have easily prevented most of their injuries if he was just free to use his magic openly. He glared over at Arthur again. He certainly would not have been injured if Merlin had been able to do more than tackle his attacker.

Leon followed his eyes, then shook his head and wandered off.

 

* * *

 

Merlin startled awake, flailing his arms around. He heard a grunt of pain, and then strong hands gripped his arms.

“Merlin, stop!”

“Arthur?”

“Yes, you idiot!”

Merlin blinked up in the darkness, seeing a vague outline.

“What are you doing?” he hissed. Why did the prat give him shite about getting rest and then wake him up in the middle of it?

“Trying to give you good dreams. What does it look like I’m doing?” Arthur snapped. “Get up, we’re on watch.”

Merlin frowned, his head heavy from not getting nearly enough sleep. Arthur pulled him up before he could even really process his words. Stumbling once upright, still drowsy, he shook his head a bit to clear it.

“I don’t have watch,” he said, confused. They never gave him watch if there was any real danger, Arthur didn’t trust him not to fall asleep.

“No, I have watch,” Arthur said, starting to shepherd him over to the edge of the group, “and that means you do too.”

Merlin glared at him. It was dark, but there was moonlight filtering down through the treetops. The prat had a stupid grin on his face, obviously amused by the prospect of ruining Merlin’s sleep. It made Merlin want to smack him about the head.

“Another perk of being your manservant?” he quipped.

“The gift of my company,” Arthur said cheerfully, pushing Merlin down onto a half rotten tree stump. He pushed him around a bit until he was sitting next to him, and then everything was still and quiet again.

“Ah yes, that,” Merlin muttered after a pause. “However did I survive without it, before being forced into your service?”

Arthur snorted, giving him a little shove. Merlin was lucky he was sitting on his left, otherwise he’d have hit him right on his wound.

“Your life would be boring if you weren’t in Camelot, don’t even try to deny it.”

Merlin frowned. That was true, he supposed. But it would also be a lot easier, a lot less fraught with danger, and he wouldn’t spend all his time running after a prince he was supposed to protect, one who regularly got himself into danger without a second thought. Then again, he would miss Arthur, he wasn’t even going to try and deny that to himself, as much as the prat irritated him. Sometimes he really did think they might be friends, of a sort, when Arthur wasn’t being particularly horrible.

Silence fell when Merlin didn’t respond. He peered out between the trees in the darkness, wondering how they’d even spot anyone approaching. He could probably enhance his vision, but in the dark he knew the flash of magic in his eyes would be too obvious.

“You know, out here,” Arthur said, sometime later, “if you judge something wrong, if you make the wrong decision, it’s life or death.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. Arthur had only lectured him a million times on the many consequences of his variety of mistakes.

“You have to have as much information as you can, before you act.”

“Oh, so we should be free to ignore your gut instincts then, Sire?” Merlin asked cheekily.

Arthur shoulder bumped him again, although far gentler than before. Merlin felt his face form a scowl again. He’d been nearly knocking him over since he’d re-joined the main party, why was the prat reverting to treating him like he was fragile? What had he done, or said, that made him look weak again?

“It’s the same at Camelot, you know?” Arthur continued, and Merlin frowned. He didn’t understand why Arthur was saying these things. Had he done something wrong? Had Leon talked to him?

“I hardly think someone is going to attack you if you say the wrong thing,” Merlin scoffed. Although, internally, he was agreeing. If he did the wrong thing, acted in the wrong moment, his magic could be revealed, and he could be killed for it. So many times he’d had to save Arthur within the castle walls, and each time, if he’d judged the situation wrong, if his timing had been off, it could have gone very badly.

Shivering, he started to feel nervous. Why was Arthur bringing all this up?

“Acting without all the information, without...assessing all the possibilities,” Arthur said, his voice becoming tense, his posture rigid, “especially in my position, it’s not easy, Merlin.”

Merlin frowned, still feeling nervous. What was Arthur on about? Surely he hadn’t seen Merlin using magic? He would have said something. He’d probably arrest him.

“What are you talking about?”

Arthur was silent, his posture still rigid. Merlin cast his mind back. He had been so careful not to use magic at all while in the camp, and he’d only used it when Leon was looking away, earlier. Had Leon seen somehow? Had he told Arthur? Was Arthur planning to accuse him of sorcery? He wouldn’t believe it of Merlin, surely, not without substantial evidence. He was too fixed in his stupid idea that Merlin was weak and defenceless.

“Forget it,” Arthur muttered, bumping his shoulder again. “My wound has likely addled my brain.”

Merlin frowned, eyeing him up. From what he could see in the weak moonlight, Arthur was looking just as tense as he sounded. He reached out, pressing his hand gently against Arthur’s forehead. He didn’t feel particularly warm to the touch. He knew Arthur didn’t really think he was fevered, but it was a good excuse to check anyway. He was still annoyed that the prat had tended his wound himself, when Merlin knew he could do a better job.

“You’re fine, but you need crutches tomorrow,” Merlin said softly, knowing he had no real chance of convincing him. “You’ll never start healing if you don’t let it rest.”

“Worried it will worsen, that I’ll die?”

Merlin felt his breath catch at the directness of the question. Arthur was looking ahead, and his posture had tensed further. They were planted firmly back where they had been the night before. Whatever it was that Arthur was thinking, edging them into such serious conversations, it was the worst possible timing. They were in serious trouble, they might not make it back to Camelot if those bandits struck again.

“What kind of question is that?” he said harshly, offended that Arthur even had to ask. He’d done nothing but try to protect him since coming to Camelot. True, most of it had been with magic, and therefore unknown to Arthur, but surely he’d seen enough, in other ways. “Of course I care that you might die! I wouldn’t keep trying to save you if I didn’t!”

Arthur turned suddenly to look at him, thought it was still too dark for Merlin to make out his expression.

“Exactly, Merlin,” he said quietly.

Merlin felt his face heat up from annoyance. Exactly what? Did he know how Merlin tried to save him? Or was he talking in more general, non-magical terms? He felt completely lost again, like the previous night, only now they’d wandered deeper into the conversation. He wasn’t a fool, they were always shying around something. Most of the time he thought it was his magic, that maybe Arthur knew, even if not completely consciously. He was half convinced Arthur had been talking about his magic just now. Still, he had the nagging feeling he was wrong again.

“I think your wound really has addled you,” he said, trying to lighten his tone. “I have no idea what you mean, I think you need rest.”

“You’re the only one who’s addled here,” Arthur said shortly. “You’re either acting dense, or you really are dense. I’m not even sure which is worse at this point.”

“What are you talking about?” Merlin asked.

Arthur suddenly leaned closer, reaching across his chest to lightly touch his right arm, near his wound. The movement brought them closer together, until Merlin could feel the warmth of Arthur’s breath on his face. Swallowing nervously, he wanted to lean back, but found himself unable to move.

“I don’t like seeing you get hurt, Merlin.”

Arthur was speaking slowly, seriously. Merlin felt himself colour and was glad for the darkness to cover it. That was disturbingly direct of him. Of course, Merlin knew this, to a certain extent, but to hear it said aloud…

“It’s nothing,” he replied softly, feeling entirely uncomfortable and out of his depth. He’d rather Arthur go back to being an arse, he was easier to deal with that way. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Arthur said firmly. “You got this defending me. You shouldn’t have been in that position, you’re not a soldier.”

“I wouldn’t have had to do it if you’d paid attention and not kept checking on me,” Merlin hissed, even thought that topic had only made them go round in circles the night before.

“I was worried you’d get hurt,” Arthur snapped. “I was worried you’d be killed!”

“Yes, yes,” Merlin muttered, “I’m your servant, it’s your job to protect me. I get it. You don’t want to see me get hurt, you said. But you are a prince, Arthur. Your safety comes first.”

Arthur stared at him for some time. They were still too close together. Arthur was leaning into him, their faces close, his hand still on Merlin’s right arm. Nervousness fluttered in his belly. What were they doing anywhere near that kind of conversation? What if Arthur asked why he cared? What would he say? He couldn’t say it was his destiny to make sure Arthur stayed alive, not without revealing his magic. He couldn’t say that he thought they were friends, of a sort. No matter how nice Arthur could be, at times, very infrequently, he was still the prince, and princes weren’t friends with servants.

“You really don’t understand, do you?” Arthur asked, his voice tense and unreadable.

“This conversation? No, I don’t,” Merlin answered honestly. “What’s the point of this? You are always going to risk yourself, because you can’t help it. You’re a prince, it’s your duty to protect people. I’m always going to do what I did, because you’re the prince, and you need to be protected too, whether you agree or not. You can’t stop me, and I can’t stop you.”

Arthur gave his arm a gentle squeeze, then let go and moved back, until he was no longer in Merlin’s space, and was staring out into the trees again.

“I could make you stop, if you acted like a normal servant and actually did as you were told,” Arthur said shortly.

Merlin shivered as cold air touched his face where Arthur’s breath had warmed it.

“If I did as I was told, you’d not like it as much,” he said lightly, trying to draw them further away from that serious tone, before they fell back into it again. “Maybe for a day, or two, but then you’d miss the way I am now. You like it, admit it!”

Arthur sighed and shook his head slightly. “What fool prince likes a servant that talks back?”

“What fool prince indeed,” Merlin said with a grin.

 

* * *

 

Merlin was just about to try and cast some magic while Leon wasn’t looking, when he heard it. It was the sound of a horn, and he saw Leon stiffen out of the corner of his eye. Moments later, the horn sounded again, and the distant clash of swords could be heard.

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin breathed, and then he was off.

He heard Leon calling his name as he followed, but he didn’t care. He ran as fast as he could. With almost all the knights wounded, some severely, they stood no chance against a regrouped band of bandits, especially one out for revenge. Crashing through the undergrowth, and nearly tripping several times, he ran towards the sounds. As they got louder, he felt his magic shifting within him, coming closer to the surface, as if ready to pour out of him at a moment's notice.

Gritting his teeth, he forced it back down. No doubt he would need it, but he was all too aware that he couldn't protect Arthur as their shared destiny dictated if he was dead or on the run. He needed to at least try to be discreet, if at all possible. As he got closer to the main group, the sounds of fighting were louder, but not loud enough to drown out the thundering of hooves.

Whirling around, he saw knights approaching, knights from Camelot. Confused, he kept running, desperate to get to Arthur. The knights passed him, obviously recognising him. It made sense that Uther must have sent knights out to look for them when they didn’t return on time, but how had they found them so fast?

As he finally reached the fight, he located Arthur almost immediately. It wasn’t hard, his eyes were always drawn to him. Dodging around the bandits and knights, narrowly avoiding decapitation by wide swings, he made his way to his side. Arthur almost struck him as he neared, but looked more relieved than angry. After he turned and cut down the man attacking him, Merlin wasted no time grabbing him and dragging him away.

Arthur fought him, but he could barely stand on his injured leg, which had already been severe, but was no doubt worsened from the fight.

“A mount, a mount for the prince!” Merlin shouted. It drew dangerous attention to them, but he wanted Arthur away from the fighting. His leg was bleeding again, and if the knights had found them, then perhaps Camelot wasn’t as far as they’d thought.

“I’m not leaving!” Arthur spat, struggling to get away from him again.

A knight Merlin didn’t know rode over, cutting down a bandit as he came. He dismounted and passed the reins to Merlin. He told him the direction to ride in, then rushed off into the fight. Merlin rounded on Arthur, only to find him looking absolutely livid.

“I am not leaving my men!” he hissed.

“You can barely stand!” Merlin snapped, and in fact, Arthur was leaning heavily on him, pain evident on his face. “Get on the horse!”

“I will not take orders from a servant!”

“Get on the bloody horse, and get your arse back to Camelot!” Merlin all but screamed at him.

As he looked around, wary of bandits realising who Arthur was as they stood at the fringe of the fight, he realised the knights were still outnumbered, even with reinforcements from Camelot. It looked like they had stumbled across a small group of a much larger force while they’d been scouting. In fact, it was hard to believe they were bandits now, and not some disguised army. There could be more nearby, in fact. It seemed the more time that passed since that initial ambush, the more danger they appeared to be in.

“Merlin, I will not aban—”

Merlin rounded on him, grasping his shoulder and leaning closer than he ever had before. The words died in Arthur’s throat as his eyes widened from the sudden proximity. Good, Merlin thought viciously, maybe the shock would make him listen to reason.

“You are wounded, you can barely stand, you can’t fight,” he hissed. “If you stay, you will die. You are the prince, you must be protected! You know this, Arthur. We talked about this!”

Arthur’s jaw clenched and his eyes bored into Merlin’s. He still looked like he was going to refuse to get on the horse. The animal in question, even though bred for battle, was trying to get away, and Merlin was struggling to keep hold of the reins. Searching desperately for a way to make Arthur see sense, he latched on to the things he’d said the night before. Arthur didn’t want to see him get hurt, maybe he could use that. It didn’t seem like it would be enough, but he’d kept trying to say it. It was worth trying.

“If you go, I go,” he hissed. “If you stay, I stay.”

Rage twisted Arthur’s expression. “You would dare use that against me?”

Merlin struggled again with the horse, and Arthur nearly fell over as he moved. The stupid prat could barely stand up now that he didn’t have an enemy to swing at. The fight seemed to be moving towards them again. Merlin looked over in terror. He could use magic, that was always an option, but how long would Arthur survive in Camelot without him?

“Get on the horse!” he snapped.

“My men—”

“Will be fine without you,” Merlin said. “You’re of no use like this. You could maybe take down one more, if you’re lucky. Get your arse on this horse, and get back to Camelot!”

Arthur’s jaw clenched again, and Merlin was ready to knock him over the head and throw him over the horse with magic. Finally, something in Arthur’s expression crumbled, and he turned, struggling to get into the saddle. Merlin looked around, trying to see through the fighting. It looked fairly balanced now, which was good, but his priority was still to get Arthur as far away as possible, and to see to his leg wound.

He helped him into the saddle, then managed to get on after him, even though it was uncomfortable behind the saddle. Ideally, he could get a second horse from one of the other knights, but he didn’t trust Arthur not to rush back into battle atop the damn horse. Arthur hesitated and Merlin held onto him, feeling bad, but still shaky and nervous. Looking down, he could see Arthur's wound still bleeding.

“I know this is hard, Arthur,” he said, close to his ear so he didn’t have to yell, “but you have to get back to Camelot and have your wound treated properly. You have to live. You trained them well, they’ll be fine.”

Glancing back over the clashing men, he spied Leon. The knight caught sight of them, and seemed to lock eyes with Arthur. The prince tensed against Merlin’s front, but then Leon was waving them away and turning to continue the fight. Arthur made an angry sound, then urged the horse on, and they were gone.

 

* * *

 

When the sound of the fighting had receded and disappeared completely, Arthur slowed the horse to a more comfortable pace. He let a hand drop to his thigh, making a pained sound. Merlin looked down, pushing his hand away to press gently around the wound. Its border had extended, and it was still bleeding. Arthur was starting to look alarmingly pale and Merlin felt his gut clench in fear.

“Stop, I’ll bind it,” he said.

Arthur didn’t argue, but brought them to a standstill. Merlin slid down, and reached up. Arthur stared down at him with a hard, defiant expression, and Merlin felt his stomach sink. Once they were completely free from danger, he knew he’d face consequences for forcing Arthur to leave like that. He’d not just crossed the line, he’d sprinted over it, screaming the whole way.

Without speaking, Arthur accepted his help, and made it to the ground. As soon as he put weight on his injured leg, he crumbled, falling with a loud, pained sound. Merlin caught him and helped him down, then quickly snatched the reins before the unfamiliar horse wandered off. He tied them to a nearby tree branch, and then turned his attention to Arthur.

Quickly and methodically, he removed Arthur’s bandages. The wound had torn further, and Arthur couldn’t stop himself from groaning as Merlin rebound it tighter.

“I can’t do more for it now,” Merlin said. “We can wait a few moments, then we need to keep riding.”

Arthur nodded, closing his eyes and lying back. Merlin took in his complexion, worried by how pale he was. Running his eyes over him, he looked for more wounds, but found none. Relieved, he took a moment, and thought back over what had happened. As he remembered the way he’d snapped at Arthur, he winced. He was really going to pay for that once they were safely back inside the castle. Looking back, he could scarcely believe he’d said those things.

“It was cowardly to leave,” Arthur said quietly.

Merlin looked to see him lying with his eyes still closed, but a grimace on his face. He reached out, pressing the back of his hand to Arthur’s forehead, checking him for fever. His wound had felt a touch too warm, but he seemed otherwise normal.

“Dying there for no reason would have been stupid.”

Arthur opened his eyes and turned his head to look at him, knocking his hand off. “I thought they’d already got you and Leon,” he said. “You strayed from where I told you to scout.”

Merlin flushed. “It worked out well then.”

“We need to get back, to send more reinforcements, to ready the defences,” Arthur said, sitting up. Merlin cursed, and rushed to help him before he hurt himself further. “Those are not bandits.”

Merlin winced, he’d realised that himself. It meant that all of the knights might die if there was a larger force nearby, if the initial attack was only a small part of it. What had they stumbled upon?

Once they were back on the horse, Arthur set a pace that was probably too rough for his leg, one that would open his wound further, but Merlin said nothing. He’d bound it tighter than necessary, anticipating the urgent pace. Keeping his right arm around Arthur was hurting it, but he grit his teeth and held on anyway. How close had he been to failing his destiny? What if he hadn’t heard the horns? What if he hadn’t got there fast enough? How close had he been to losing Arthur? He shivered, and held on just a little tighter, even if Arthur would mock him for it and call him weak.

A few moments later, one hand slid over the back of his, and he startled. Arthur tensed, but said nothing. Merlin settled again. Arthur was leaving his knights behind, most likely to die. If he needed a little comfort, Merlin wasn’t about to make him feel bad about it.

 

* * *

 

When darkness fell, they kept riding. The trees were thinning, and the land was looking familiar again. Arthur had slowed the horse so it would last, and was still gripping the back of Merlin’s hand. Merlin had given up trying to stay proper, resting his forehead against the nape of his neck. He was tired enough to fall asleep, but worried enough to stay awake.

“How are you?” he asked quietly, worried about his wound now that it was too dark to see. “Do you need to stop for a bit?”

“I’m fine.”

Merlin winced. Arthur’s tone was angry. He didn’t blame them, the situation they were in was not good. By now, there were only two possibilities; all of his knights were dead or captured, or they’d won, but were still wounded and vulnerable to further attack. It would be agony of the worst kind for Arthur, not being there with them.

“You couldn’t die there. You need to live,” he murmured.

Arthur was silent, but his posture tightened. Merlin really shouldn’t have said it. After struggling with the way they’d been talking to each other after the initial ambush, it was madness to bring it up again. Arthur seemed to be talking around something he didn’t understand, possibly his magic, possibly not. If it was his magic, Merlin was probably digging his own grave.

“Would you have really stayed, even if I’d ordered you to go?”

Merlin shivered, and sat straighter. Arthur tone was strained, and he regretted starting this conversation again.

“When have I ever followed your orders?” he said, trying to keep his tone light.

“You’d have died,” Arthur said, his grip on Merlin’s hand tightening. Merlin flushed, suddenly aware of how that gesture looked.

“Maybe,” Merlin replied. If he’d stayed, he would have used his magic. Even if it meant he’d be killed or forced to run, he’d have done it to keep Arthur alive. He’d do anything to keep Arthur alive. Sometimes that frightened him.

“It’s a knight’s duty to stay with their lord even unto death,” Arthur said. “You’re just a servant.”

Merlin felt a pang of hurt at that. It was, of course, completely true, but they were in one of their strange conversations, when Arthur was more honest about things. He’d thought he was more than that to him, if not friends, surely something more than just a servant.

“I’m your manservant,” he replied, his voice betraying his hurt and making him cringe, “my place is by your side, whether I like it or not. Whether you like it or not. I will not leave you.”

Arthur inhaled sharply, but didn’t reply. Suddenly, he brought the horse to a standstill. Merlin tensed.

“You’re a bit wrong there,” Arthur said carefully. “If I don’t like it, I can dismiss you.”

Merlin felt cold. What would he do if that happened? He’d never considered Arthur would ever do it. As much as he complained about Merlin, he seemed to be amused enough by him to keep him around. How would Merlin protect him without an excuse to be around? He supposed he could stay with Gaius, maybe train properly to be a physician, and care for Arthur that way. But a physician couldn't go with him on excursions.

“I suppose you can,” he muttered, not sure how else to answer. As much as he pretended otherwise, Arthur was still the prince, and as disobedient and insubordinate as Merlin was, he was still in no position to stick around without a reason.

They were silent for a while, which only made Merlin feel more nervous and awkward, and Arthur didn’t spur the horse on, but kept them still.

“We need to get back, Arthur,” he said. “Your wound, warning Uther...”

Arthur made an angry sound, but set them back into a moderate pace. They were getting closer, Merlin could tell.

“Would you go back home?” Arthur asked, his hand sliding away from Merlin’s to take the reins with both hands. “If I dismissed you?”

“No, I’d stay with Gaius,” Merlin replied, feeling even more nervous. Why was Arthur talking about this? “Camelot is my home now.”

“Relax,” Arthur said, sounding annoyed. Merlin scowled, why was the prat annoyed? He was talking about dismissing him. If anyone had the right to be annoyed, it was Merlin. “I’m not going to dismiss you. Without being kept busy, you’d spell disaster for Camelot, no doubt.”

Merlin’s scowl deepened as the tone changed. What was Arthur playing at? Three times he’d started a serious conversation, only to pull back before anything was resolved. What was he doing? What was it he was trying to say? What was he trying to find out?

“Not being around to take care of you would spell disaster,” he muttered.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Arthur scoffed.

“Should I say it louder? A lord should know humility, after all,” Merlin teased.

“Shut up, Merlin!”

Merlin shook his head, but didn’t reply. They were back to some semblance of normalcy, and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t want to send them back into another serious conversation when he didn’t know what they were really about. Maybe it was his magic, maybe Arthur suspected but wasn’t sure. If that was the case, Merlin would have to be more careful.

A few moments later, Arthur’s hand found Merlin’s wrist where it was still pressed around him. He gripped it firmly, and held on. Merlin waited a bit, then leaned against him again. Almost at once, Arthur’s posture relaxed. Merlin felt bad, he kept focusing on himself and worrying about his magic. Arthur was probably only talking to distract himself from what might have happened to his knights. Realising he needed comfort, but was unable to ask for it, Merlin held him a little tighter.

They stayed that way until they reached Camelot.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback would be very appreciated as I'm still getting used to writing in the Merlin fandom =]


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